


more than you could ever know

by startofamoment



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startofamoment/pseuds/startofamoment
Summary: She snaps up reflexively, eyes wide. “You think this is fromCharles?” The question leaves her lips before she’s able to think about it. She almost winces at how her voice squeaks, a step higher than usual.Jake scoffs. “This probably cost at least a hundred bucks, Amy. Who else would go Full Boyle on something as dumb as Secret Santa? Nobody takes precinct-wide gift exchanges this seriously. Like, I legit just went and got HR Jim candy from the vending machine.”A Christmas-themed Get Together fic separate from the canon timeline, feat. Pining!Amy and the art of thoughtful gift giving.





	more than you could ever know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegirlinthedress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlinthedress/gifts).



> **The happiest of holidays to[@amyjake](http://amyjake.tumblr.com) ([thegirlinthedress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlinthedress)) from your B99 Secret Santa!** 
> 
> I’m a week early to the official reveal date, I know, but I just couldn’t wait to share this with you and figured it would make a lot more sense to post it on Christmas Eve vs. New Year’s Eve!

“ _Oh my god._ Oh my god, oh my god–”

Across from her, Jake gasps audibly as he tears through wrapping paper, shedding scraps of shimmery blue and silver ribbon within a two meter radius of his desk. Amy watches him out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction without giving herself away.

“A Nakatomi Plaza Lego set,” he whispers reverently once he’s uncovered his present. He takes the box in his hands, turning it over and over to read all the print. “It has three thousand pieces. Oh my _god_.”

Amy ducks her head into her nearest open case file, a grin starting to form on her face.

 _He likes it!_ Of course he likes it. It’s Die Hard-related and awesome, just the right blend of childish and geeky. She didn’t have to put too much extra thought into this first gift, but she did spend a good amount of money on it – definitely a lot more than the suggested price limit. (When she made the purchase, she reasoned that she was allowed to splurge on a close friend from time to time. That Jake was never one who’d had the luxury of being spoiled around the holidays or even on his birthday. That he deserved presents that were carefully, deliberately selected _for him_ specifically.)

“This is the best thing,” he says, finally setting it down and swiveling back to his computer screen. “Man, Charles is really pulling out all the stops this year.”

She snaps up reflexively, eyes wide. “You think this is from _Charles?_ ” The question leaves her lips before she’s able to think about it. She almost winces at how her voice squeaks, a step higher than usual.

Jake scoffs. “This probably cost at least a hundred bucks, Amy. Who else would go Full Boyle on something as dumb as Secret Santa? Nobody takes precinct-wide gift exchanges this seriously. Like, I legit just went and got HR Jim candy from the vending machine.” He stops to give the box a few appreciative pats. “I gotta say, though, I’m grateful my bud knows me so well. Last year, Scully got me a tub of foot ointment. Who does that?”

She shrugs, forcing out a chuckle. “Well... Maybe you’re right. Maybe Boyle _is_ your Secret Santa.”

They return to their respective tasks after that, leaving Amy to stew in the most confusing mix of disappointment and relief. It didn’t feel right for another person to get credit for her work, but a part of her did enjoy the unexpected layer of secrecy. (If nothing else, it was satisfying to know that she’d sort of managed to fool the self-proclaimed “greatest” detective in the squad.)

* * *

She’s sitting in bed, winding down with a crossword puzzle, when her phone buzzes on the table beside her. She reaches over and pulls up the new message.  

> **_[Jake Peralta, 9:48 pm]_ **
> 
> **_Took me hours but check it!!!!!!!!! Christmas came early!_ **

If she paid any real attention to the finished tower in the attached picture, she’d notice that it’s an exact replica of the official photo on the Lego website and an impressive miniature model of the real thing. Instead, she’s more preoccupied with Jake beaming proudly beside it, looking tired but overjoyed. His hair’s rumpled, probably from running his fingers through it in frustration throughout the building process. He’s still in the dark green shirt he’d worn at work earlier, except the buttons are undone, revealing his gray undershirt beneath. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, the way they usually are when he’s not donning a hoodie or leather jacket.

Amy stares at the picture for another long moment before tossing her phone aside and burying her head in a pillow with a groan.

He’s so cute, and she’s so _screwed._

If she continues with the personalized but pricey gifts like originally planned, she’ll only be reinforcing Jake’s belief that his Secret Santa is Boyle, which will make things so much more awkward when she finally has to reveal her identity. No doubt, he’s going to just _know_. He’ll see all the thought and money she put in and for sure realize that she’s so ridiculously into him. He’ll see that she’d pathetically channeled her affections in gift form like some lovesick schoolgirl.

 _But_ , she thinks: if she switches tactics and gives him a generic present next week only to save face, he’ll be confused and return to being jaded about the holidays. He’ll go back to thinking he’s only worth drugstore brand antifungal cream and dinners-for-one comprised of mayonnaise and peanuts.

She sighs and gets up to trudge over to her laptop in the corner. She’s got some shopping to do.

* * *

“Ooh, looks like my Secret Santa dropped in again!” Jake says, quickly stowing his bag under his desk and picking up the wrapped present for appraisal. “Flat. Square. Maybe twelve-by-twelve inches altogether? Relatively light.” He turns to her. “What do we think, Santiago? What did Boyle get me this week?”

Amy splays her palm on the paperwork she’d been reading – a weak attempt at grounding herself before looking at him. It doesn’t help; her stomach still flips over his boyish smile and expectant gaze. She needs more coffee and maybe an abyss to scream in.

She hums, pausing for effect although she’d already thought this through. (It’s bullet number four on her Disaster Preparedness and Contingency Plan for the day.) “Maybe a wall calendar? They come in about that size, don’t they?”

His face morphs into a grimace. “Oh, geez, this better not be one of those customized calendars with pictures from the last Boyle family vacation in Iowa. I love Charles, but I don’t love the fifty something cousins who strangely look exactly like him.”

“Wouldn’t that be too obvious?” She asks, as Jake starts to rip open the festive packaging. “It’d be a dead giveaway if it had actual pictures of him.”

He shrugs, tugging the last bit of paper from where it’s taped on.

“Alright, we were both wrong. It’s not a Boyle family calendar, _but_ –” He holds up the unwrapped items with a smug grin. “It’s the 1989 album on vinyl plus a Bullets Over Broadway record. This still has Charles written all over it.”

Amy lets herself smile properly now, safe knowing he’d fallen for the red herring. “Well would you look at that… But hey, cool Taylor Swift album! Didn’t that just come out like a month ago?”

“October 27th, so technically a month and a half by now.”

“ _Ah_ , right.”

Jake leans back in his chair, sighing dreamily while admiring the gift in his hand. “Man, I love this. I’m going to have so much fun finally listening to something other than Nana’s old klezmer music. You’ll see– This time next week, I’m going to be a pro at spinning.”

 _And this time next week I’ll be dead_ , Amy’s brain supplies unhelpfully. The Big Reveal is slated to happen then, and who knows what’s going to happen after that.

For now, with the way her heart is fluttering in her chest, her belly flip-flopping spectacularly once more, she’s just glad she’d been able to make Jake happy.   

* * *

Her pen hovers over the printed card to accompany her final gift. There’s nothing much on it, just two short sentences in unassuming black font:

> **_Enjoy the movie! Dinner’s on me._ **

All she has to do is sign her name on the red and white stationery, then she’ll be spared the excruciating verbal confession.

And yet… The impulsive, masochistic part of her _wants_ the face-to-face confrontation. She wants to watch as Jake’s eyebrows jump in surprise at her words, his mouth opening and closing dumbly as he figures out exactly how to reply. It’s probably going to be horrifyingly traumatic for both of them, shifting the balance of their friendship forever.

Or it might be amazing.

He might break into the goofy grin that makes her swoon. He might blush and scratch the back of his head, stammering out a thank you. He might lay one on her right there and then, his sweet gratitude muffled against her lips.

Amy lets out a breath, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. It’s such a risk.

She shoves the card in its envelope, unsigned. She has everything to gain.

* * *

“Where’s Charles?” Jake asks, looking around the bullpen as he makes his way from the elevator.

“Called in sick, apparently,” Amy says, trying to keep her voice as level as possible when her heart is thrumming a mile a minute. “Gina mentioned bad food poisoning?”

“Yeah, that checks out.” He nods gravely, taking a seat. “I’m a little bit bummed, I gotta be honest– I’d half-expected him to burst in with circus acrobats or indoor fireworks.”

Amy deflates slightly but decides it’s too late to chicken out. She points toward the center of his desk. “I think your Secret Santa left you something earlier.”

“ _Oh!_ ” He picks up the envelope, opens it with his thumb and forefinger, then leafs through its contents. She can’t quite see them from where she’s sitting, but she knows it’s two tickets to the opening screening of an action film Jake’s been gushing about for weeks and a hefty Visa gift card, plus her still-anonymous message.

She watches as Jake’s brows furrow together, his tongue darting to the corner of his mouth the way it does when he’s deep in thought. She steels herself, quickly rehearsing her speech in her head. Her blood’s rushing loudly in her ears, but she knows this is it. She’s going to say something.

Except Jake beats her to the punch.

“Hey, Amy? What are you doing tomorrow night?”  

* * *

She still hasn’t said anything.

They’re sitting in the cinema, both of them dressed to the nines – or dressed as nicely as the weather and their respective bank accounts will let them. Amy had brought out her best dress (the red one Kylie’s always said makes her look gorgeous) and paired it with black tights, boots, and killer lipstick. Jake’s looking especially dashing in his pale blue button-down, dark blazer jacket and pants, and dress shoes. Their warm coats and scarves are slung over the backs of their seats.

The thing is that it feels entirely too late for a grand admission. Jake had really thrown a wrench in her plans by asking her out, even if he technically hadn’t specified it was a date. She’d been caught off guard just the same, surprised he would actually want to spend an “all expenses paid fancy night out” with her of all people.

At this point, Amy’s dug herself so deep into this hole that it’s seeming like a much better idea to call Charles and beg him to play along. (He’d never let her live it down and would very likely blurt out her secret to the whole precinct within half a minute. But still.)

Logically, she knows she should just own up to it. The fact that Jake wanted to share his final gift with her should mean _something_ , and maybe he won’t be so massively weirded out by her questionable life choices.

She at least should make an effort at polite conversation. He’s been nothing but nice (and attractive and funny and infuriatingly perfect) since he picked her up on the way to the theatre, while she’s been so in her head about literally everything.

She clears her throat, tapping his elbow perched on the armrest between them. “Hey, uh, thanks again for inviting me to this.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t thank me. Thank my Secret Santa.”

“Actually, Jake–” she starts, figuring this is her Now or Never moment. Screw the butterflies raging war in her stomach.

Just then, the lights dim and the first trailer starts running, effectively cutting her off. Jake looks at her curiously, expecting her to continue, but redirects his attention when a spaceship explodes on screen.

Amy groans inwardly, letting herself sink into her chair.  

* * *

By some Christmas miracle, all her nerves melt away by dinner.

It’s wonderful, being able to sit across from Jake and laugh when he cracks a joke about the movie they just watched. It’s great, talking about everything and nothing, toasting to the holidays and tucking into their five-course meal. His eyes dance in the candlelight, and she falls just a bit more for him.

“Oh,” Jake says, slicing into his filet mignon. “Who’d you get for Secret Santa, by the way? I just realized I never asked. I’m sure they loved your dorky homemade gifts.”

Amy coughs, almost choking on her wine. The room is sweltering hot all of a sudden. “Uh, actually I went for store-bought gifts this year.”

His brows knit together, but he nods. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t think I saw you working on any crafts or scrapbooks at your desk recently. What did you get them?”

She quietly sucks in a breath, gripping onto the linen napkin on her lap for courage. “Oh, you know–” Her voice is somehow completely even, the words coming out slow and steady despite her growing panic. “A Nakatomi Plaza Lego set. And a Taylor Swift vinyl record. And tickets to a movie opening with a gift card for dinner.”

She watches as Jake’s eyes grow wider and wider, braces herself for whatever rejection is to come.

“ _Holy shit, Amy_ ,” he finally chokes out what feels like a lifetime later. “Oh my god. You spent so much on me. I feel like I owe you– at least, at least let me pay for dinner tonight.”   

“No, no, you don’t owe me anything!” She says, shaking her head vehemently. “Please– don’t feel like you have to return any of what I gave. I really just wanted to do something different this year. For you. I mean–” She pauses, looking away and tucking her hair behind her ears. “For a change.”

He just nods silently, taking a sip of his wine. She does the same, feeling the need for alcohol and any excuse to stop talking.

“Did you… did you know I was going to ask you to join me?” His voice is low, barely audible over the sound of silverware clinking against plates. He looks timid and vulnerable, and for some reason that only bolsters her confidence.  

“Gosh, no. I assumed you were going to take Charles or Terry or Rosa. But…” She sighs, smiling softly at him. “I hoped? Maybe?”

He smiles too, an awed little grin she’s never seen before, then reaches over to intertwine their fingers together. She melts from the inside out, knowing at once that _everything_ was worth it.

* * *

It’s freezing, their breath visible as puffs in the air, ice crunching under their shoes. A stroll around the nearby park maybe wasn’t the best idea at this time in December, but Amy had immediately jumped at Jake’s suggestion, not wanting this night to end just yet.

“God, I feel like an idiot,” he says with a dry chuckle.

She turns her head to look at him, noting the new flecks of white dusting his peacoat. “Because you didn’t realize I was your Secret Santa?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs and nods. “But also because I didn’t realize I could’ve been doing this a lot sooner.”

“Hmm?”

He stops in his tracks and tugs her to him, cradling her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers. Gentle at first, then just a little deeper as her arms find their way around him. His lips are warm and soft and pliant, and _yeah–_ she can die a happy woman now.

They barely break apart, their foreheads still resting together and breaths intermingling.

“You’re a terrible detective, Peralta,” Amy says before closing the space between them once more. His laugh is muffled against her mouth, then lost to a moan when she parts his lips with her tongue. He tastes like the chocolate mint souffle he ordered for dessert and also like everything she’s ever wanted.

He eventually pulls away, panting and flushed. “Merry Christmas, Amy,” he says, all grins.

She smiles back at him, brushing the snow from his hair. “Merry Christmas, Jake.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!!!  
> Find me on tumblr ([@startofamoment](http://startofamoment.tumblr.com)) and come chat with me about B99, Jake/Amy, and AUs! ♥


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